


One More Drink, Sir

by hibiren



Series: Jay's JoSeb Collection 2017 [3]
Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Bartenders, Drabble, Drinking, Joseb - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, TEW - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 01:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12422406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibiren/pseuds/hibiren
Summary: Joseph is a bartender at an establishment frequented by the not-so-friendly, the depressed, the lost souls of Krimson. He spends his nights here consoling people who seek a friend and a drink. One regular in particular has him caught tonight, reminding him that work and pleasure do sometimes overlap.





	One More Drink, Sir

**Author's Note:**

> NEW FIC ART BY [LAURENCEORANGE](http://laurenceorange.tumblr.com/post/166597577053/a-lil-pic-done-after-i-read-hibirens-one-shot) ON TUMBLR THANK YOU SO MUCH!! This is my first fanart piece I'm still gushing over how amazing it is ahhhhghhhh

 

Some time around 9 pm, the man in the familiar tan trenchcoat dragged himself through the door. The strong scents of smoke and evening storms followed him, mingling into the cramped quarters of the bar. Joseph immediately knew he–rather, both of them–were in for a long night. Sebastian Castellanos, detective, soaked with rain from the overcast Krimson sky. Joseph, his bartender, his momentary companion, his therapist and his advice-giver at times. Judge, jury, executioner.

“Hey, Joseph.” He sounded particularly dejected tonight. Bad case, someone died? He’d likely find out at the bottom of tonight’s drink.

“The usual,” Joseph remarked as he slid a glass of whiskey toward him. Given Sebastian’s taste for the brand, he would know it was always the same. Four ice cubes tinkled pleasantly as Sebastian swirled the whiskey in the glass out of habit. “Rough shift?”

“…Yeah.” He was a man of few words. As always. He sat silently at first, sipping slowly at his drink as if licking wounds. If one could lick their wounds with a salted tongue. As time progressed, with Joseph flitting between other patrons, Sebastian became more talkative. The cycle had been in motion since he entered the bar, and it was transitioning into its more active stages as the night went on.

“I’m losing my touch. My cases don’t make sense anymore. Things are–complicated now. I can’t focus on a damn thing anymore.” Half-empty, both Sebastian’s glass and his reality, it seemed. Joseph noticed something was off about him in just catching the flash of unspoken sadness in his eyes as he walked through the bar’s door earlier that evening.

Joseph had guessed Sebastian was divorced. Recently, perhaps. One night when Sebastian had paid, Joseph caught a brief glimpse of an old photograph tucked in the folds of his wallet behind his KCPD card–a smiling, happy Sebastian standing next to a blonde woman, and a small child between them. Bearing a very strong resemblance to Sebastian; similar hair and the same warm smile. Yet Sebastian refrained from mentioning either of these two by name, ever, and Joseph left it at that.

Everyone had their ghosts. Joseph had his own, as well. But it was his job to be the listener, not the speaker.

“I lost track of time after… my house burned down. Lily, my daughter… she… burned along with it. I’d been working that day. I missed the call. Myra was furious. She left me after that–I think she’s taking this even harder than I am–and we… I’m heartbroken, Joseph. I can’t keep going like this.” His words were slurred by pain and drink. His eyes clouded by extreme loss and the dissociation of denial. “God, I need another whiskey.”

And Joseph obliged. Sebastian needed his own release, and Joseph would provide, like a moth to a flame, an addict to a needle. The tiredness in the man’s eyes that grew with each visit now began to make sense. And it was awful.

“I can’t imagine having to work after losing a child…” Joseph now realized exactly what Sebastian was referring to. He’d simply glanced over the paper that week. The last name mentioned had sounded familiar, but now it set knots in his stomach. But, for it to be the reality for the man sitting in front of him… if there was a living Hell, this would be it. Joseph filled Sebastian’s glass when needed, leaving a cup of water off to the side as well. Though Sebastian’s intentions were obvious tonight.

“Yeah, you’re fucking right. I… I just want to…” Sebastian trailed off. Joseph knew exactly where his sentence was going. He’d heard it in too many others, some of whom disappeared like smoke from cheap cigarettes. “I should have known better. I should have been home.”

Time seemed slow, now. Like it was just the two of them in this bar–they ignored the noise, the clicking of pool balls striking each other, the sounds of drunken men and women in all moods, the faint music playing through the speakers, the storm raging on against the walls outside. Joseph reached across the bar counter and for the first time, made contact with Sebastian. Just a simple touch of his gloved hands against Sebastian’s palm resting on the counter, smooth black leather against calloused skin. Breaking the supposed anonymity that should be a bartender’s life.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could offer to this man who was still near a stranger to him, who only started coming fairly recently to drink his nights away–at a bar that wasn’t the typical choice for someone who worked for the police force. A bar with a variety of customers from all walks of life, and all backgrounds.

“Me too, Joseph. Me too.”

Sebastian’s eyes trailed wearily to the clock on the wall and he slunk off of the barstool, shoving a hand in his trenchcoat pocket as he likely searched for his wallet. Joseph waved a gloved hand and shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it tonight. Please.” His voice was low, in case the customers sitting nearby caught his spark of sympathy for a tortured man. Joseph turned, briefly, to pull a small business card for the bar out of a stack next to the register. Grabbed a pen and wrote something in neat handwriting across the back of it.

 _Joseph Oda_  
_Bartender  
_(and friend)__

His phone number was listed below that. Silently, he slipped the card to Sebastian and nodded. Sebastian took the card, turned it over in his hands, and a faint hint of a smile twitched his lip.

“Thanks, Jo.”

A nickname. Not many of the bar’s regulars even bothered to know his name, let alone give him a nickname. It warmed his heart on this chilly, stormy evening. He hoped Sebastian, just for a moment, felt the same.

“You’re welcome… Seb.”

**Author's Note:**

> [[**title inspired by lyrics from the song "Why Does She Love Me?" from the musical Love Never Dies]]  
> Also I may have gotten too excited writing this so I apologize for any weird plotholes  
> 


End file.
